


Good Pup

by Areiton



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Derek Needs a Hug, Dom Stiles Stilinski, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Good Uncle Peter Hale, M/M, No Incest, POV Outsider, POV Peter Hale, Sub Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 09:57:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17302502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: He isn’t surprised, when he walks into the loft and finds Derek sprawled on the couch, and Stiles tucked into his side, snoring softly, one hand clenched in Derek’s shirt to lodge him there while Derek reads over Stiles’ sleeping head.He looks happy, his eyes soft and body loose in a way that Peter hasn’t seen in years.Peter doesn't dwell on how comforting that is.





	Good Pup

**Author's Note:**

> Full warning at the end.

They’ve been together for almost six months, when Peter comes home. 

He’s heard about it, of course. He’s been circling the states, renewing alliances and strengthening the Hale pack relations and reputation, and contact with his alpha was necessary even on his extended absence. 

So he’s not surprised, exactly, but he will admit, privately, that he’s been cautious in the warm acceptance. 

There is far too much history between him and Derek--too much paranoia in general--for him to ever just welcome someone into Derek’s arms and bed and heart without a niggle of worry that just won’t quiet. 

So he knows. He isn’t  _ surprised _ , when he walks into the loft and finds Derek sprawled on the couch, and Stiles tucked into his side, snoring softly, one hand clenched in Derek’s shirt to lodge him there while Derek reads over Stiles’ sleeping head. 

He looks happy, his eyes soft and body loose in a way that Peter hasn’t seen in years.  

Peter doesn't dwell on how comforting that is.

~*~

Talia expected him to be close to the girls. 

Laura, the alpha heir, the future of the pack, the one he should by rights be loyal to. And Cora, vicious and brilliant and wild, the one he would teach and shape and sharpen into what he was. 

And he adored them, his wild strong nieces. 

But it wasn’t them who drew him in. 

It was Derek. 

Derek who was strong and brash and cocky and desperate for affection and approval. Whose eyes went dazed and shiny when he gripped the scruff of Derek’s neck, and shook, who was never as happy as he was when Peter gave him an order. Who sat by Peter’s feet during movie nights, head resting on Peter’s knee, almost purring with contentment as Peter’s fingers scratched through his hair. 

Derek was...special. 

The girls were strong and would need his advice and guiding hand, of course they would. 

But Derek--Derek needed him in a way that was both worrisome and intoxicating and he revelled in it, in all of that strength and brilliance bent to his will and whim, to the sweet submission of his nephew when Peter’s grip turned hard, to the way Derek stared at him, gaze hopeful and trusting and filled with an adoration that made him  _ ache.  _

Talia  _ hated _ him for it. 

~*~

He sees it the first time a week after he gets back. 

He hasn’t spent too much time watching Stiles and Derek, has instead spent it in his bed and soaking in his pack’s presence and touch, in conference with Derek and Scott about his time away and conversation with Stiles about his training, and his lawyers about the lingering issue of being legally dead. 

But inevitably, there’s a pack meeting, and he’s drawn into the mess of it, all the pups that Derek has acquired and McCall with his gratingly earnest smile, and he’s pouring a glass of wine when he sees it. 

Derek is standing against the counter, and he shoves up his sleeves, a smile twisting up his lips as he listens to something Erica is saying, and there is--

There is a black leather cuff on his wrist, the leather plain and worn, two thin chains twisted over the band. 

His gaze flicks over his alpha’s other wrist, hidden by the sleeve of his Henley and sees the telltale lump there. 

And something coldly furious settles in his gut. 

~*~*~  

He wonders sometimes, what would have happened if Talia hadn’t sent him away. If he had stayed, and Derek hadn’t been left alone and adrift. 

He wonders if Kate would still have slid into his life, with her sharp cutting smiles and smooth orders and poison kisses. 

He wonders and he hates his sister for forcing him away and he aches for the boy who was left, alone and broken and needing. 

~*~

Peter waits a few days, until Derek is sitting in the loft alone. His wrists are still wrapped in those damn cuffs, and he shifts forward, drawing Derek’s patient gaze. 

“You didn’t tell me about those,” he says and Derek’s gaze flicks down to them. A tiny flush colors his ears and his gaze darts back to Peter, just a little defiant, and a little ashamed. 

“I didn’t realize I had to,” he says sharply. 

His lips tighten. “We might not be that close anymore, Derek, but I still care about you.” 

“So does Stiles,” Derek says softly. His eyes are bright, sure and steady and some of the tension in Peter’s chest loosens. 

“You’re happy? With him?” 

Derek smiles. “Happier than I’ve been since I was with you,” he says, and his voice is brightly honest. 

~*~ 

It was never sexual. 

That’s what Talia didn’t understand, what even Laura didn’t understand. It wasn’t  _ sexual _ . Derek needed to belong, needed the hard guiding hand of someone else. He  _ needed _ to submit, in ways most of the pack didn’t, and it wasn’t just the boy still coming into himself--if it was, Peter might have walked away. 

It was the wolf, desperate for something no one in the pack was willing to give him, and so fucking beautiful when he bent for Peter. 

Peter thinks, sometimes, that if anyone else had needed it, he would have turned away. 

But it was Derek. 

Derek with his big pleading eyes and his soft sweet smile and his shy hesitance when he leaned into Peter, and the way he almost purred when Peter held onto him, too tight, guiding and claiming. 

If it was anyone else--but it wasn’t. It was Derek. And there was very little Peter wouldn’t do for him. 

~*~ 

He leaves his nephew with his book and a vague excuse and drives to the station where he knows that Stiles will be having dinner with his father. 

He waits, patiently, until Stiles stumbles out, gaze on his phone, waits until Stiles finally looks up and goes very still. 

“Stiles,” Peter says pleasantly. “I think we should talk.” 

~*~ 

He gave Derek the cuffs when he left for college. When Derek stared at him, eyes wide and scared and Talia watched, suspicious and furious, and he knew he couldn’t just leave, when Derek knelt in his bedroom and Peter scratched his fingers through Derek’s hair. 

“You’ll have a real collar, one day,” he murmured. “But for now--wear these. I’ll text you my orders every morning.” 

“It’s not enough,” Derek whispered. 

“You’ll be fine, pup,” Peter said, and he kept his voice solid, steady, sure. 

Everything he wasn’t feeling, because it was what Derek needed. 

~*~ 

“I told him he needed to tell you,” Stiles says, rubbing his hands together. Peter sips his coffee and studies Stiles. 

“How did it even happen?” 

Stiles’ arches an eyebrow. “No offense, Peter, but I’m not telling you the nitty gritty about my relationship with Derek. You’re only getting this much because you were his last Dom.” 

“Fair enough,” Peter says easily. “But you need to understand this--I don’t care if you’re his Dom or not. If you hurt him, I’ll kill you. No one will find the body. And then I’ll destroy your father.” 

Fury flashes in Stiles’ eyes, there and gone fast enough that Peter is actually intrigued. “You get that one pass. Because I love him and know that you do, in your twisted way. But you threaten my father again, you won’t be around to worry about how I’m treating Derek.” 

Peter studies him and smiles. 

“You know that I love him, right? That I would never hurt him,” Stiles says. “I would cut my own hand off before I hurt him.” 

His heartbeat is steady, impossibly steady and Peter--Peter believes him. 

“Good,” he says, simply. 

~*~

Sometimes, when Derek knelt at his feet, his head resting against Peter’s knee, and his eyes closed, when all the worry and fear drained away and left his shoulders slumped and his scent warm and content, Peter wanted. 

He was such a good beta, so sweet and submissive, so painfully eager to please--and he wanted to keep Derek, here, his, always. 

Even then, he knew he couldn’t. Knew it wasn’t what either of them needed. 

“One day, pup,” he’d murmur and Derek would turn those beautiful adoring eyes up to him, smile so trusting and warm, “One day, you’re going to find the best person to love you. And I’ll kill them, if they don’t treat you like you’re precious.” 

Derek closed his eyes and leaned heavier onto Peter’s knee and sighed, “I know.”  

~*~ 

He watches them, now. 

He knows what he’s looking for, and it amuses him, that the pack is so delightfully oblivious. 

Because it’s there. In the way Derek bends to Stiles, curving his body into the young man. It’s there in the arm around Derek’s shoulder, the possessive clutch of long fingers, splayed over his chest. It’s there in the way Derek’s eyes drop from Stiles’ when his voice goes low and stern, in the way Derek sits at Stiles’ feet, half asleep as the boy plays with his hair during movie night, there in the way Stiles rarely asks Derek for anything, but expects--and is given--everything. 

It’s there, in the way Stiles pushes Derek to safety, in fights, the way he presses Derek behind him, in clubs and while being watched by too hungry eyes. 

It’s there in the finger Stiles hooks in Derek’s cuff, possessive and commanding, and the way Derek follows him, meek and content. 

He watches them, and he thinks, a soft ache in his gut--this is what he deserves. 

~*~ 

He’s packing--another diplomatic trip, this time with Chris Argent, to Eastern Europe of all places--when he hears it. 

Derek, his breathing raspy and short, a sob caught in his throat and Stiles, speaking over him, that strong soothing cadence that Peter would recognize anywhere. 

“You’re ok, pup. You’re ok. You’re perfect.” 

Derek whines, breathless and begging and Peter smiles. 

He packs quickly and leaves the loft behind, the melody of Stiles’ reassuring croon and Derek’s broken cries soothing as he goes. 

At the door, he pauses and murmurs, “I’m so happy for you, pup.”

~*~ 

He wonders, idly, as he sits next to Chris on their first flight, how he would look, begging on his knees. 

**Author's Note:**

> Peter and Derek previously engaged in a non-sexual D/s relationship. Peter is very protective of Derek because of it, but there is no actual romance or incest in this particular story.


End file.
